


All He Needs

by aschicca



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Angst, M/M, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-22
Updated: 2011-07-22
Packaged: 2017-10-21 15:57:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/226960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aschicca/pseuds/aschicca
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cancer arc, between 4x09 and 4x10 more or less. My take on what happened after the “fucking chicken soup” scene. And beyond.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All He Needs

Justin’s POV

 _“So why don’t you get your ass back in bed you son of a bitch, and eat some fucking chicken soup.”_

And he did. He just looked at me one last time, and then he did like he was told. That should have pleased me, the fact that Brian had finally stopped fighting with me and had accepted that I wasn’t going anywhere; it should have pleased me. Instead, I had never been more scared.

I was back in his life, I knew he wouldn’t try to send me away anymore… but what now? How could I help him? _Really_ help him. I had no idea. But there I was, in that moment, and he was waiting for me and my soup. I stopped questioning myself, I buried the pain and the fear deep inside me (‘Don’t let him see them, don’t you _ever_ let him see them’), grabbed the platter with the soup and climbed the few steps to his bedroom.

He was lying on the bed, and he was looking at me. I returned the stare without faltering, then I sat on the edge of the bed and fed him the soup. He ate. Well, if you call a few spoonfuls eating.

But he ate. Some. I chose to see that as a positive beginning.

*

Brian’s POV

The little shit. I tried, I wanted him out of this fucking mess that was my life. I never wanted for him to be caught in this web of pain, vomit, and shivers. I never wanted him here.  
Bullshit. Of course I wanted him here. But I couldn’t face the thought of him seeing me like this… disgusting, diminished, fallen. Old. Diseased. Less.

I closed my eyes, swallowing away the words (‘Get the fuck out!’) that threatened to leave my mouth after this thought. Get out, go away, far away from me so that in your mind I can still be Brian Kinney, hot, perfect, _whole_. So that this repulsive one-ball man I became, will never take the place of the one I once was; the one he once stalked, wanted, took. The one I wished I could still be. For him. For everyone. For myself.

But I knew, by now I knew, that he would never listen to those words again. He had fallen for them once, but now he knew. The bluff was over, the cards on the table. He knew. And there was no getting rid of him now. This panzer that went by the name of Justin Taylor. Shaking my head, I smiled; a smile I was quick to hide when I felt him approach, holding the ‘fucking chicken soup’ he was determined to force-feed me.

I looked at him, intently. He answered my stare, then sat. And I ate… because he was here and maybe this time I could keep down what he cooked for me for more than a few minutes.

Because he was here.

*

Justin’s POV

Treatment days were the worst. Brian simply refused to let me drive him to the clinic, and so I let him leave alone… only to take the first bus, wait outside until I was sure he wouldn’t see me in the waiting room, then demand to be given the keys of the ‘vette as soon as he stumbled out of the treatment room. The scene repeated itself every time: he scowled, told me in a spiteful tone that he didn’t fucking want me there and was completely able to drive his own fucking car, then simply looked at my outstretched hand, the one I never pulled back during his angry speech, sighed, and gave me the keys.

We were following a script, really. He needed to vent and to inform me that he didn’t need my help… before accepting my help. That’s Brian Kinney for you.

But the mornings and the scene at the clinic were a walk in the park compared to what came after. For as long as I live, I swear I’ll never be able to forget the feeling of helplessness, the fear and the heartache that seeing Brian shiver, sweat, and puke until he simply collapsed on the bathroom floor, gave to me. I just wanted to hold him, so close and so tight to threaten to break a rib, and take away all the pain he was feeling. I wanted to be able to _do_ something to help him… something more than cook a soup he would vomit an hour after eating, clean after him and then lay in bed beside him at night, watching him, making sure he was still breathing. Hoping he would sleep through the night, hoping he would keep breathing.

There was nothing I could do to help him. I had never felt more useless in my entire life. And…

“Fuck, I can hear you thinking from here, Sunshine. Why don’t you stop rehearsing whatever bullshit is in your mind, and see if there’s still some of that disgusting slobber you call soup? I’m feeling lucky. I bet this time I can keep it down for 15 minutes.” Brian’s voice was hoarse, his throat dry and irritated by the ordeal it had to endure so many times a day, but it still held the old, weirdly reassuring sarcasm.

I rolled my eyes at him, happy to see the hint of a smirk on his lips, then went to fix him some soup. Times like these, I really believed that Brian, not unlike his superhero alter-ego, could read and influence my mind.

I was feeling useless, he gave me something to do.

*

Brian’s POV

The lad thinks he’s not helping me. Little does he know. I still hate to let him see me like this, but I’m not afraid anymore to admit I need him at my side. Well, I’m not afraid to admit it with myself, at least.

With him here, I know I can have warm blue eyes to look into when I lift my head off the toilet. With him here, I can sleep at night feeling his warmth beside me, letting it fill my bones too, helping me control the shivers. With him here, I don’t have to be alone when I wake up and the pain is so harsh I just want to curl up and die… and the only thing that keeps me tied to this world is the feeling of his hand on my back. He never holds me when I’m in so much pain, he knows I wouldn’t be able to stand it. But he touches me, his hand on my back, and talks to me, whispering nonsense. And he anchors me to life.

Yet, he thinks he’s useless. I should tell him he’s not, I could tell him he’s not. I won’t. I don’t know the right words.

“Here.” He’s back with my soup and I force myself in a sitting position. I don’t really want to eat, but asking him to fix me lunch was the only way I could think of to prove to him that he is needed.

I don’t know the words. I’m hoping he’ll read my actions and understand.

*

Justin’s POV

“You’re not going alone, Brian!”

“You bet your ass I am.”

“But why? Why can’t I at least come there with you? I won’t insist on talking to the doctor with you, if you’re uncomfortable with me there. But why can’t I at least sit in the waiting room?”

“Because.”

“Oh, that’s mature, Brian.”

We’ve been fighting over this issue ever since we woke up. Brian finished treatment two weeks ago and today he has an appointment with his doctor. He’ll be visited and the doctor will tell him if he’ll need further treatment or if he’s out. For now.

I want to be there with him. I need to be there. I desperately need to know if we’re out of our nightmare or not. I can’t believe he expects me to stay at home and wait for him, not after all we endured together!

“Brian, please! You can’t ask me to sit here and wait for you to call me! You just can’t.”

“So, don’t sit here. Call Daphne, go see your mommy, do whatever the fuck you want. I’ll call you when I’m done.”

I have to get out of here. I throw him one last look, then grab my jacket and my keys and storm out of the loft.

I angrily wipe away the tears from my eyes.

*

Brian’s POV

I don’t know why it’s so important for me that Justin isn’t there today. Or maybe I do. I leaned on him completely lately, I let him make all the decisions, I let him in the driver seat and relied on him for every single thing. This thing, this ‘face your future’ thing, I need to do alone.

Of course, I couldn’t tell him that, could I? No, I had to go and shut him out, as I always do. Good fucking job, Kinney.

I sit on the bed, my head in my hands, and sigh. Fuck, I’m so tired. Cancer is as easy as downing a shot of beam if compared with this relationship bullshit!

“Are you okay, Brian? Do you feel ill?”

I raise my head and he’s back. This brave, stubborn little boy, refused to abandon me even now. What the fuck did I do to have him in my life?

“Justin,” I say and I see him looking intently at me. My using his name lets him know that I’m serious. “I’m not trying to shut you out, I just have to do this alone. Can you let me do this on my own?”

He nods. I can see he’s not convinced, and that he still feels like I’m slamming the door on his face and throwing rented DVDs after him. But he’s nodding. And suddenly I want to compromise.

“If you promise not to even try to go in with me, if you promise not to say a fucking word, I think you could maybe sit in the waiting room.”

That fucking smile. It always forces me to smile back. And to take him in my arms.

Suddenly, I don’t want this hug to end. I want to stay here, in this moment, holding Justin. I don’t want to hear what the doctor has to tell me.

I don’t want to know.

*

Justin’s POV

The day he came out of the doctor’s office, a smirk on his face and the words ‘cancer free’ out of his mouth, was the day I realized I wouldn’t lose Brian. I hadn’t been consciously aware of the fact that I had constantly lived with the fear that one day I’d woke up and find him dead beside me. Killed by a cancer _I_ hadn’t been able to help him out of. Irrational, I know, yet absolutely plausible in my mind.

I had tried not to cry during those months of treatment, so now that we were both out I let loose all the tears I hadn’t cried before. Alone, hidden in Daphne’s bathroom while she was out, I cried and cried and cried. Brian was alive. I didn’t have to watch him die. I hadn’t failed him.

I cried.

*

Brian’s POV

Thank God, I was in Daphne’s good graces. She was more than willing to lend me her keys after I found out Justin was hidden in her apartment. As soon as I entered, I heard it. Suffocated whimpers, hoarse sobs, desperate whispered words I couldn’t understand. They came from the bathroom.

I knocked. “Open the door, Justin.”

“Br…Brian?”

“Yeah, open this fucking door.”

“I can’t right now, I… well, I…”

“Cut the bullshit, Sunshine. I’ve seen you in far worse shape. Hell, _you_ have seen me in far worse condition, and often in a bathroom, so let’s call it payback, shall we?”

The muttered “asshole,” coming from the inside of the door, made me smile. And I was still smiling when Justin, eyes and nose all red and puffy, opened the door.

“My, aren’t we charming.”

“I’m closing this door in your face in a minute, Brian. Cut it out.”

“Come here, you little shit.” I pulled him in my arms and held him tight. His face was hidden in my shoulder, and he was clinging to me like there was no tomorrow. “I’m not going anywhere, you know?”

“I know,” came his muttered reply. “ _Now_ , I know.”

“Then why the waterworks?”

Justin raised his head and I found myself drowning in the blue of his wet eyes. I didn’t want him to answer my question, I wasn’t sure I could stand hearing him talk about the reasons why he was crying. I didn’t want to hear them. Yes, I’m an asshole. Sue me.

But he knew, he knew I wasn’t ready for him to voice his fears to me. He knew. “Call it relief, Brian. Or maybe it just occurred to me that I have to live with your charming personality for a long, long time still.” And then he winked.

I guess my laugh startled him, but I couldn’t help it. He always knew exactly what I needed and wasn’t afraid to give it to me.

He gave me himself when he was just seventeen and I only wanted, or thought I wanted, a nice virgin ass; he gave me a kick in the ass when I was acting like I didn’t want him around; he gave me chicken soup when I was living in hell. He’s giving me space now that the emotions are too thick for me to endure without wanting to run to Timbuk-fucking-tu.

He is what I need. And I might still not know the words, but I guess this time I can make sure my actions speak for me.

All night. Thanks, Mom.

*

Justin’s POV

Brian made love to me tonight; I felt it. It was different this time. It was _love_ this time. He’s always talking through his actions, and he’s lucky I’m onto him because I heard him loud and clear.


End file.
